Kris Longknife: Deserter

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Kris Longknife: Deserter Page 26

by Mike Shepherd


  She was almost to the elevator before running footsteps came up behind her, and a harsh whisper said, “We need to talk to that maid.”

  Kris whirled; Jack and Klaggath turned to stand between her and the grays. Another agent summoned an elevator. “What maid?” she demanded in her mother’s most irritated voice.

  Both grays, the senior a Sergeant, bumbled into Kris’s team and bounced back. What looked to be a Captain led a contingent from the main door, but they were well off. The two in Kris’s face mumbled something that sounded like “that brunette.”

  “We have appointments to keep. When you have something to say, call our embassy,” Kris said regally, turned, and was in the elevator and the doors shut before anyone in gray could recover.

  “That was fun,” she laughed.

  “That was too damn close,” Jack growled.

  “That was something only I could have pulled off,” Kris pointed out.

  “And just what have you pulled off?” Klaggath asked.

  “Nothing, nothing at all,” Kris said, demurely settling herself on the elevator couch and making sure the raincoat covered her brown uniform. One security man frowned a question at Klaggath. He shook his head firmly, and all of them took to studying the elevator door for the rest of the trip.

  Once in, Abby took over, almost dragging Kris into the bathroom and barely giving her time to get out of her dress and body stocking before dunking her in the bath. “Wash your face with this,” she ordered, and Kris’s makeup came off easily.

  Kris waited until Nelly announced, “All clear, but I had to zap the four bugs we picked up in the lobby.”

  “How’s Penny?” Kris asked.

  “Doing as well as you can expect,” Abby said. “Jack, you want to come here. She’ll want to know about that message you got.”

  “We got it,” was all Jack said. Kris glanced over, but he was out of sight, so she was, also.

  “Have you looked at it?”

  “Looked at nothing but it since it came in. Big, bad layout. More guns than they need to arm the ships in dock. Somebody’s expecting to have a lot more merchant ships available real soon.”

  “Damn.” Kris sighed, enjoying the warmth of the tub but knowing she had to get out. “Abby, hand me a towel.” The fluffy robe was clean and waiting for her. Jack stayed out of view while she made herself decent. Damn nice of him.

  “Young woman,” Abby said, “you have about fifteen minutes before I want you back in that tub so I can wash your hair and get you presentable for tonight. You are not going to a ball with hair looking like it should be pinned under a greasy wig.”

  “Only ’cause that’s where it was today.” Kris sighed and told Nelly to call the Ambassador.

  “Yes,” came a moment later.

  “Mr. Ambassador. I am in receipt of a very strange message concerning unlicensed weapons construction. Have you by any chance seen anything like that?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “A long message came in not too long ago, full of plant video and the likes. I passed it to my officer for trade negotiations. I haven’t heard back from her. Kris,” his voice now a whisper as if that might reduce its digital distribution, “I am not sure that such material is legal and in Wardhaven’s best interests. If I wasn’t afraid I might be destroying evidence needed to substantiate criminal charges, I would suggest you erase the message entirely.”

  “That’s an interesting point I hadn’t considered,” Kris said as if that was her first encounter with such a thought. “Let me know what the embassy’s lawyer thinks. I suspect I have a copy of the same message. If you think it should be destroyed, I certainly would want to know.”

  “I’ll keep you informed.”

  “Well, my maid is telling me I must do my hair for tonight. Will I see you there?”

  “Of course,” he said, ringing off.

  NELLY, GET ME SENATOR KRIEF. In a moment, the screen showed a very harried woman.

  “Make this quick, I’m on two other lines.”

  “Did you get a large message this afternoon?”

  “I’m on two other lines with people who might be able to tell me what to make of it.”

  “So I assume I won’t see you at tonight’s ball.”

  “Oh, no. I wouldn’t miss it. Most of the people I need to buttonhole will be there.

  “See you there.”

  Two hours later, Kris was about ready to be there. Except, “I guess we’ll have to use your Navy tiara,” Abby said, looking at the bare skeleton of the fancy one Mother had fallen for.

  “Well, I could have Nelly use the dumb metal we have around here somewhere to re-create Mother’s concoction,” Kris said.

  “I can do that,” Nelly said, voice enthusiastic to try her hand at jewelry making.

  “On second thought, let’s go with the Navy tiara,” Kris said, spotting the ten-kilogram slug of Uni-plex in one of her trunks. “It can only change shape three times and . . .” She let the thought trail off unspoken.

  “If you insist,” Abby said, sniffing at the simple silver ring the Navy provided.

  “I could add some diamonds or rubies to it,” Nelly offered.

  “Enough. I’ll wear the Order of the Wounded Lion. That ought to be enough jewelry for any outfit.” Since tonight’s dress was a lovely green, the blue sash and gold medallion went very well with it. Klaggath had a full team and a worried look on his face as they took the slide car to the top.

  “Problem?” Jack asked him.

  “Not here, but something’s happening. Units are being ordered to new nets, ones I never knew we had. Lots of them. Not many of us on the main net.”

  “How close?”

  “Midtown. Nothing near the station.

  “A riot?”

  “Doesn’t sound like it. Princess Kristine, is your computer picking up anything?”

  “Nelly?”

  “Nothing unusual. There’s a cat up a tree and several fire trucks are trying to catch it. All but two of the news stations are covering the story. So far, the cat’s winning.”

  “Dumb animal,” one of the agents snapped.

  “I like cats,” another said.

  “Slow news night,” Klaggath concluded.

  Not if I and a few of my friends have any say. Kris grinned.

  Kris stayed with the slide car as it went past the high exit and started to turn around, taking it to the lower station. She figured to save herself from the long walk down in these heels and avoid having her name shouted by the guy in knee britches. She should have finished the ride.

  Her security detail walked right out of the car and into another equally large and no more willing to move aside set of tuxedoed security. While Klaggath and a goon twice his size tried to straighten out the gridlock, Kris stood on toes to see who the poor victim was.

  “Hank?”

  “Kris? Kris Longknife, is that you?”

  “What are you doing here?” Kris called over three guards.

  “Not going anywhere at the moment,” Hank Peterwald laughed. Officially Henry Smythe-Peterwald the Thirteenth on a vast array of legal documents, he had the finely sculptured beauty parents with too much money tended to give children these days. Some parents, not Kris’s. He also was heir to a fortune close to if not more than Kris’s, depending on which market was doing better on any given day. Oh, and Auntie Tru was real sure his papa had tried to kill Kris a few times. Father, being Prime Minister, said there was insufficient evidence to present in a court of law. All that aside, Kris had hit it off well with Hank the one time they got together with no parents on the same planet.

  Kris waved and started moving some of her blockers aside. Jack growled; one of the failed attempts on Kris’s life occurred the day after she and Hank had a wonderful lunch. Kris was sure Hank had nothing to do with that hit. Well, fairly sure. Anyway, in a social situation, he was nice to be around. And he couldn’t kill me here in front of God and everybody.

  They finally got in touching range, ha
d a good laugh, and both said, “So, what are you doing here?”

  “Boys go first,” Kris insisted.

  “Dad has this huge pharmacy plant coming on-line. Caley Sandfire insisted it was the biggest ever and just the thing for my latest assignment. Anyway, I got here about five minutes before they closed the port. We tried to back off, but there were a half-dozen lasers backing up a very insistent port official yelling, ‘Nobody goes nowhere,’ so we didn’t.”

  “It was about four hours later I tried to book a ship out of here. I’m still trying,” Kris said.

  “And they don’t have the net fixed,” he said, shaking his head. “My old man would have kittens and heads if that happened on Greenfeld.” Kris knew the kittens were figurative. The heads were likely to be literal, at least in Grampa Trouble’s opinion.

  For social purposes, Kris laughed. “Fixing that net problem would have fixed a lot of my troubles. I wanted to order in some Ebola vaccine and get this quarantine lifted. Hey, that pharm plant of yours, it have anything good for Ebola?”

  “Didn’t I check that out, first thing,” Hank said, rolling his eyes at the void above them, which included the stars and the rest of the universe. “They tell me Ebola is a bitch, takes a unique feed product and processing. Only three or four plants do that. Hey, didn’t your grampa goodie-goodie say he was going to stockpile the stuff on every planet?”

  “He did,” Kris defended Grandfather Al. “Somebody stole our stock a bit before the outbreak.”

  “Lots of interesting coincidences here,” Hank said. “But I must tell you, that is a dazzling dress you’re wearing tonight.”

  Kris beamed and did a pirouette. Nearly backless, this dress was slinky with a slit up the right side. “Ought to be fun to dance in.”

  “Certainly better than the green things you were wearing last time I saw you. Green and wet and everyone hungry. By the way, how did that stuff I donated work out?”

  Kris froze her smile in place, tried to school every muscle in her body to act just so. Would Hank actually ask if he knew the answer? She swallowed to get her voice just right. “Most of it came in very handy. We really needed those trucks.”

  “And the boats?” he asked, not a tick or quiver in his too beautifully handsome face.

  “Had some problems,” Kris said, lowering her eyes to study him through the lashes. “There was a glitch in the smart metal. Third time you changed their design, they fell apart.”

  “Good Lord, I never heard about that. I hope that didn’t happen when you needed them.”

  What do I do now? Tell him the truth and let the chips fall, or tell a social lie and have fun tonight? His tuxedo fit him perfectly. What more could a woman ask for in a night out than his elbow to lean on.

  “I was on a raging river in a particularly narrow canyon with the water rising when I found out,” Kris said.

  “Oh Lord. That’s terrible, Kris. I’m sorry.” And for a moment, that overly refined face looked like he meant it. Then Kris could almost see something click in behind his eyes, and her father warning her, “Never say anything we can be sued for.”

  “That sounds more exciting than what I’m doing,” he said in a well-schooled voice. A smile came out that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Looks like you’re still having all the fun.”

  He reached for the sash of the Wounded Lion and slowly ran it through his fingers. Was it an accident that one of his well-manicured nails also ran its way down between her breasts? “Earth must have liked whatever you did at that get-together in the Paris system,” he said as Kris failed to suppress a shiver.

  Maybe someday she’d tell him the truth, but not now, not in front of everyone. “You know how it is, being a kid from the right family. Some old fools decide to put a crown on my great-grandfather’s head, and a guy in the housewares department back on Earth sends a fancy for the new Princess’s wardrobe.”

  “Yes. Dad is rather proud our money dates back to when the Pope still had an Army. I imagine if I looked through the back of my closet, I might find a few doodads as well,” he said, but he no longer eyed Kris as a dance partner. No, it was more like the way you studied a cobra.

  What must I look like to him?

  “Pardon me,” Jack said beside her. “We are blocking the car exits, and I think Mr. Sandfire is casting glances this way like he’s looking for Henry but doesn’t want to admit it.”

  Sure enough, Kris’s main candidate for nemesis on this planet and a bevy of eye candy were circling in the distance, not enough to force eye contact, but not likely to be missed.

  Hank started to frown but quickly suppressed it and morphed his face into a smile and a nod in Sandfire’s direction. “He’ll tie me up half the night with people who just want to be able to say they shook my hand,” he told Kris through his smile.

  “I have people I need to see, too,” Kris admitted. “I’m surprised Ambassador Middenmite hasn’t already nailed me.”

  “Duty calls,” Hank said, turning to Kris, taking her right hand, and bowing to kiss it. What his thumb was doing on the palm of her hand was enough to make any girl go weak in the knees. Buck up, Lieutenant, you’ve got business, remember.

  “Save a few dances for me,” Hank said, glancing up while still in midbow, still with thumb playing with her hand, her knees, and all parts in between.

  “Even if I have to kill a few social climbers to keep the slots open.”

  “Good. See you in an hour or so,” he said as he turned.

  “You having fun?” Jack asked.

  Kris shrugged, which in this dress set off enough shimmering to make her a hazard to navigation. “Girl’s got a right to spend a little time with a possible like soul.” Clearly, Tommy’s dance card was full of Penny.

  Clearing his throat like some ancient duenna, Jack said, “I’ve spotted several of your political allies. You might want to edge to the left here.”

  With only a tiny helping of self-pity, Kris turned to duty. She waded through a small throng of social greetings before she and Senator Krief occupied the same quiet eddy in the flow of well-dressed and gorgeous people. The Senator cut through Kris’s greetings with whispered glee.

  “The President outmaneuvered himself, or at least the idiots telling him when and where to throw parties did. When I told Senator Earlic what happened to Nara, I didn’t even have to hint that my daughter was set up for something and his daughter was gotten out of the way by the President’s barbecue. He may be Conservative, but he’s not blind, and this is only the latest in strange coincidences. You top that with the sudden call in the Congress for a vote on war with Hamilton, and you’ve got a lot of people wondering if we aren’t being led around by our noses.”

  “Think you can defeat the vote?” Kris asked.

  “It doesn’t have a chance. My guess is their whip didn’t do a nose count today. Bad move for them, very bad move.”

  “And the pictures you got today?”

  “I’m not quite sure what I have, but I talked to someone who is. He says they show enough naval-size lasers to outfit a fleet twice the size of what we have parked in the yard below us. Makes you wonder why someone is spending money on so many more guns than we need,” she said, slowing to a thoughtful pause.

  “What’s the size of Hamilton’s merchant fleet?” Kris asked.

  DO YOU WANT ME TO ANSWER? Nelly said.

  NO.

  “I don’t know for sure,” the Senator said, “but I understand it’s larger than ours. Much larger.” Her eyebrow rose in alarm. “A whole lot larger than ours.”

  “I think my computer can answer that. Nelly, do you have Hamilton’s approximate tonnage and bottoms?”

  “The Hamilton Merchant Marine is just a shade less than triple Turantic’s in total standard tonnage. Their ships are, on average, slightly larger than Turantic, so the number of ships are about two and a half times Turantic’s number. THERE, KRIS, DID I DO IT RIGHT FOR A HUMAN, NOT PRECISE BUT IN APPROXIMATE TERMS SHE CAN USE?

 
PERFECT, NELLY. INCLUDE AN “ATTA GIRL” IN YOUR REPORT TO TRU.

  ONLY ONE!

  FOR NOW. NOW, QUIET.

  The Senator edged herself over to a table and settled into a chair. Kris did the same, her guards closing in to keep the space hers. Kay shook her head slowly. “Hamilton doesn’t have so much as a patrol boat in orbit, not the last time I checked. Damn that communications blackout.”

  “When do they say they’ll have it fixed?” Kris asked.

  “God only knows, and she ain’t telling. Yesterday they announced they were tearing the entire system down to rebuild it from scratch. But they’ll be using the same parts. How will that make it better?” the Senator asked the ceiling and the unblinking stars beyond it. “Worse, for the last couple of days the problem up here has been knocking towns off our local net. First time that happened, the news was all over it, insisting the place must have come down with Ebola and the government was hiding it. We sent a convoy racing up there, over mountains and in the snow, no less. Even had a few newsies in it. Everyone was fine, just terrified about what was happening to the rest of the planet while they were out.

  “Glad to hear that didn’t last long.”

  “Ah, but we’ve had two more towns drop off net, and every time, someone in the media starts talking about Ebola.”

  “It won’t go away,” Kris said.

  “Or someone doesn’t want it to.”

  “How is Bremen?”

  “No more deaths reported. And Earlic heard something very strange. They didn’t actually do autopsies on the ones who died. Just cremated the bodies.”

  “I thought Ebola was a pretty ugly way to die. Kind of hard to mistake.”

  “It is, though the medical team in Bremen is pretty basic. Still, the bodies are dust, and no one can find the blood samples they took for analysis.”

  “If they called it Ebola, they had to do blood tests.”

  “Yes, we have the computer reports of the tests, but no one can find the blood samples to run a second test. All lost.”

 

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